Field Trip

Took matters into my own hands. Couldn't spend any longer whimpering about my knee whilst festering in a tracksuit. It's just not me.

I prepared for my day like Boudica going into battle - except that my warpaint was MAC, my armour Kate Moss for Topshop and my brave tribe of warriors a pack of Aspirin. And with more prescription drugs pulsing around my body than Robert Downey Jnr. gets though in an average week, I bravely stepped off the tube at Southwark.

The drugs did their job and I barely even noticed my knee. Plus we were only singing, so I spent most of the morning sitting down.

Take Me To Heaven is sounding pretty amazing. There's something wonderful, magical... something deliciously wrong about nuns breathily singing oh yeah and Ooh baby, panting like Donna Summer.

We really made some noise in that little room. The trick now will be to maintain it whilst prancing up and down the Palladium stage in front of two thousand people, dressed in full habit...

Having sung all morning, I was quite excited about the dance call at midday. It was probably the Aspirin talking, but the knee was numb and I felt good. I was ready.

I was just pulling my dance gear out of my bag, however, when I heard tell of a trip, an outing. It started off as a whisper, barely audible; mutterings of "cabs waiting outside" and "set builders' yard" in hushed tones. Could it be true? Were we being allowed out? A sniff of freedom? The rumour grew louder, stronger.

Suddenly the muted rumbling turned to a blasting roar, like an approaching train at full speed. Quiet conversation turned to excitable chatter, bags were slung on shoulders and people headed gleefully for the exit. I followed, not really knowing where or why, but confident in their excitement.

We were being taken to see the set.

What is it about a little field trip that's so exciting? Is it the call of the wild, the chance to throw off the harness and abandon the pack? Or is it the idea of getting out of the classroom, buying a bit more free time? Ever since infant school I can remember the feeling of knowing an excursion was coming. The anticipation of being lined up in pairs, waiting to march down the playground and out of the school gates... Whether it was carol service, harvest festival or surveying shoppers in the street, it all spelled one thing: change.

A backstreet in Bermondsey was perhaps not the change I had hoped for; nevertheless it was change. We piled out of the cars animatedly, eager to see what would be our new surroundings for the coming year. Carpenters scurried around (not Karen and Richard - I mean actual carpenters) with various bits of wood and unidentifiable pieces of set. In the centre of the room a giant floor was being built, an intricate pattern of tracks and trap doors and revolves. I felt as if I was in the nerve centre of Willy Wonka's factory. Aside from the fact that there were no Oompa Loompas and the smell was less chocolate and more spray paint, it could have been there.

We got to stand on our new pews. There were three in total, each one a step higher than the one on front. There's something mysteriously fun about standing on a ledge, even if it is only a couple of feet high. We were shuffled around for a few minutes while the creatives decided if they were happy with the size, before being herded back into the cars and whisked back to work.

A brief trip, but worth every second.